The Wrong Doorstep
by gosqueakinthenight
Summary: On one night in July, Hagrid is following orders to bring Harry Potter to No. 4 Privet Drive. However, he makes a wrong turn in a storm and drops him on the doorstep of a house in Berlin. A house that just so happens to belong to two nations. Fem!Ger/Ita
1. Adopted

Harry Potter was placed on the wrong doorstep.

On the night his parents died, Rubeus Hagrid had picked him up from the ruins of his destroyed house in Godric's Hollow and was supposed to take him to the Dursleys' home in England. However, things like clouds tend to foul things up at the last minute. Hagrid, not having a wand anymore, couldn't banish the freak storm that descended upon him and his motorbike.

After dodging lightning blasts and heavy winds, he brought the bike down in what he thought was the right place. He hovered over several houses, until he saw...

_No. 4! Perfect!_ He lowered the motorcycle to the ground and disembarked. He looked down at the bundle in his arms. The baby, still swaddled in a blanket, hadn't woken up once during the entire ordeal. Hagrid smiled and placed him on the doorstep. "See ya in ten years, Harry."

He got back on his motorcycle and drove off into the sky, not once realizing his mistake. In his haste, he had dropped Harry in the wrong country. The No. 4 whose door was slowly starting to open was in Berlin. And it was the home of a certain Feliciano and Luise Vargas.

"Ve~! Luise! Come look at this!" Italy cried.

Germany looked up from her newspaper. "What is it, Feli?"

Italy stood on the doorstep, with what looked like a soaked bundle in his arms. He started talking a mile a minute. "Ve, I head a motorcycle outside so I went to investigate but there was no motorcycle except there was a baby so I took him inside since it was raining and I think we should empty the clothesline before-"

Luise cut him off. "Wait, what? You found a baby?"

"Si~!" Italy bounded inside and showed Germany the blanket in his arms. Germany looked into the bundle in shock; a little black-haired baby boy stared back up at her with green eyes. She blinked, dumbfounded.

"Ve~! Germany! Can we keep him!"

Germany frowned. "Doesn't he have parents?"

"Veee..." Italy sadly shook his head. "If he did, they abandoned him here. Can we keep him? You kept saying how you wished we could have children!"

Germany was about to refuse, but her husband AND the baby gave her the puppy-dog eyes that she couldn't resist.

"Fine," she said gruffly. "We can keep him." _Curse my soft heart,_ the nation thought to herself.

"Ve~! What will we call him?" Italy smiled brightly, unwrapping the baby from its blanket.

Germany shrugged. "You pick."

"No, I named the cat! It's your turn!"

Luise shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe Alfonse?"

"Ve~! I like it!" Italy passed Harry, who would from now on be known as Alfonse, to Germany. She awkwardly cuddled him in her arms.

"Well, for what it's worth, welcome to the family, Alfonse."

The baby smiled slightly and giggled, and Germany couldn't help giving one of her rare smiles in return.

yyyyyyyyyyyyy

**And there you have it, my first fanfic. Comments would be appreciated.**

**And before anyone asks, Fem!Germany/Italy is my favorite pairing.**


	2. Discovery

2 years later

As usual, the World Meeting was chaos. France was trying to molest England, America was voicing stupid ideas that Japan supported immediately, Russia was scaring everyone, and Switzerland was threatening to beat people with his Peace Prize.

Italy looked over at Germany. He could tell that his wife was about to explode as usual. Her eyebrow was jumping uncontrollably and she was squeezing the table so hard that cracks were appearing in the wood.

Italy sighed. So holding the meeting in Berlin hadn't helped ease Germany's stress. Oh well. He pulled a pair of earplugs out of his pocket, screwed them into his ears, and braced himself.

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!"

Germany shot from her chair, sending it crashing into the wall. There was silence. Instantly.

"I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY I AGREED TO HOST THIS CONFERENCE, IF YOU ALL INSIST ON BEING USELESS IDIOTS BICKERING OVER NOTHING!"

For the next thirty seconds, she ranted until her throat was sore and she'd blown off plenty of steam. But when she stopped to take a breath, all the nations heard a wail coming from the next room.

China looked over at the door with interest. "Is that a baby, aru?"

"AHAHAHA!" America pointed at Italy and Germany. "You two have been busy, huh?"

Germany's face somehow alternated from mortified red to shocked white. Italy leapt to his feet and ran from the room.

"Where is Italy going, West Germany?" Russia asked in a creepy voice. "I hope it is not something that could threaten the Warsaw Pact?"

Germany didn't answer, instead opting to follow her husband out through the meeting room's doors. The nations sat in silence and confusion, wondering what the hell was going on.

Germany and Italy returned a few minutes later. Italy held a small toddler in his arms, a toddler who looked around curiously at the other nations. The toddler was still whimpering slightly while Italy rocked him in his arms.

"Ve~, Alfonse, shhhh..."

The other nations stared at Italy, Germany, and the baby in utter shock. And then England stood.

"Is that... You... That's Harry Potter!"

He ran over to Italy, who shrank back apprehensively. "Yes! The scar! That's Potter! We've been looking for him for two years since-"

England stopped speaking when he felt a vicelike hand close around his neck. He was twisted around to face a very angry Germany.

"England, explain why you are calling our son, Alfonse, Harry Potter."

England squeaked in terror. "C-can't this wait?"

Germany tightened her death grip. "NOW."

England nodded, as he didn't have enough air in his lungs for words.

"Sehr gut." Germany opened her hand and let England fall to the floor. He coughed for a second and then looked up. "But we need to talk about this in secret."

Russia stood up. "England, you are keeping secrets from us, da? Come on, tell us."

England scowled. "Shut up, Russia. This doesn't concern the Warsaw Pact or NATO. This is far more urgent, and it's completely secret."

"Secrets are my specialty, da?"

America stood up and yelled, "Hey, commie! Iggy said it's secret, so it stays secret!"

England ushered Germany, Italy, and Alfonse out of the room, pausing only to yell over his shoulder, "Don't call me Iggy!"

;;;;;;;;;

Germany glared at England across the kitchen table. "So let me get this straight. You're telling me that our adopted son is a wizard, his biological parents were killed by some evil villain, and that you've been searching for him for two years?"

England nodded awkwardly. "Yes. He was supposed to be left on the doorstep of his closest blood relatives, but our... courier... took a wrong turn and left him on your doorstep instead."

Alfonse/Harry looked up at Germany and Italy. _"Mutti? Vati? What's going on?"_

He spoke in German, sinces Germany had won the coin toss to teach him the language first.

Germany picked him up and hugged him. _"Nothing, Alfonse. Everything's all right."_

"Ve, England, what does this mean?" Feliciano asked, while Luise tried to calm down the terrified child.

England sighed. "Well, ideally, we would have to ask you to return him-"

"Not a chance." Italy's normal cheer had been replaced by an angry glare. England shrank back.

"Okay, okay. I looked into his relatives, and I think he actually would be better off with you two. His aunt and uncle are absolute _nightmares._"

Germany took a break from fussing over Alfonse to ask, "So what do you want?"

England took a sip from a cup of tea. "Children of his kind are sent to a special school at the age of eleven. And his case is... special."

"Ve... So Alfonse, or Harry, or whatever his name is, will be attending a boarding school? What will he be learning?"

"How to use his special abilities correctly. Don't try to fight this. An untrained wizard can be deadly."

"How deadly?"

"Well, since he's untrained and doesn't know how to use his powers, the magical energy he could release would destroy half a city block."

The two parents stared at England in shock and disbelief.

"Are you sure that this isn't another one of your 'imaginary friends' talking to you?" Germany asked skeptically.

England scowled. "THEY'RE NOT BLOODY IMAGINARY!" he yelled.

Alfonse started to cry. Italy took him and tried to quiet him down while Germany talked to England.

"England, I hope you understand if this is a bit... hard to believe."

England shrugged. "You'll come around. His powers will start showing up at around his fifth birthday."

"If you say so."

From behind the door, unbeknownst to any of the other nations, East Germany/Prussia had his ear pressed to the door.

"Kesesesese! Magic baby?" he muttered to himself. "The awesome me can't believe that West is falling for England's bullshit so easily! Russia will be pleased to hear this!"

yyyyyyyyyyyy

**All right, as promised, here's Chapter Two. Not my best work, but it'll do.**

**Reviews are appreciated.**


	3. Wall

**Sorry this took so long.**

It was November 9,1989. Alfonse Vargas-Beilschmidt was nine years old.

He stood in a park, near the Berlin Wall, holding his mother's hand. Germany barely noticed, as her concentration was so absolute. Italy stood beside her, straining to hear as well.

Soon, there was no doubt. The hoarse shouting of thousands of voices was now discernible.

"_Stasi Aus! Stasi Aus!"_

Germany felt the faint stirring of her people, oppressed for too long, in her divided heart. Alfonse and Italy squeezed her hands for reassurance.

;;;;;;;;

Across the Berlin Wall, on the other side of the collapsing Iron Curtain, Prussia led a group of seventy thousand East Germans in a march through the streets of East Berlin.

He had shed the uniform of the DDR's army for his traditional Prussian blue one, and he burned with a fiery determination he had not felt since 1871.

"_Stasi Aus! Stasi Aus!"_ he chanted, finally voicing what he had felt since the division of Germany.

The Stasi, the East German secret police, did nothing. In the past, they would have beaten or shot the protesters. But Prussia was there, in the lead of the mob, and they knew that there was nothing they could do but melt away.

Prussia was the first to reach the infamous wall. He stood before it, looking up at the barbed-wire barrier that separated him and his sister. He hefted the hammer he carried and swung.

;;;;;;;;

On the other side, Germany, Alfonse, and Italy stood at the head of thousands of excited, hopeful West Berliners.

Germany stepped towards the white expanse of concrete that separated her from her brother. She looked at the graffiti spray-painted on it—_Made in Germany. _She looked back at Italy and Alfonse, who nodded in encourgement and smiled.

"Go, Mutti!" Alfonse yelled.

Germany smiled. She picked up a large piece of metal and wood—a sledgehammer—and swung.

;;;;;;;;;

The two hammers, swung at exactly the same moment, instantly pulverized a massive section of the wall. Concrete splinters flew, dust billowed up, and the shock caused by the two superhuman beings made the ground tremble.

Through the blinding dust and smoke, the East and West Germans ran towards each other like madmen and madwomen. The first two to collide were the Beilschmidt siblings. Germany and Prussia saw each other, and in an instant, they were hugging each other and cheering in utter happiness.

"_Schwester!"_

"_Bruder!"_

They were only the first. Italy and Alfonse joined in, creating a group hug. Then the two mobs, East and West, collided. It was a priceless moment. And in her heart, Germany felt a unity and strength she had not felt since 1945.

She was whole once more.

;;;;;;;;

The celebration didn't stop for hours, and Germany and Italy eventually noted that Alfonse was nodding off to sleep.

"Ve, come on," Italy said. "We have to get Alfonse home before he collapses."

Prussia looked a bit forlorn. "You sure you don't want to celebrate a bit more, West?"

Germany looked a little sad as well, but she nodded. "We have to get going."

She felt a tug on her arm. Alfonse was rubbing his eyes and staring at them. "Mutti? Papa? Can Uncle Gilbert come and stay at our house?"

Gilbert laughed. "Kesesese! Cute kid." He ruffled Alfonse's unruly black hair.

Luise could have sworn she'd seen a strange expression, possibly guilt, flash across her brother's face, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared. She resolved to interrogate him about it later, but for now, she was in an uncharacteristically good mood.

"Well, _Bruder?_ Do you want to stay over?"

Prussia laughed again. "Well, I don't want to impose..."

He was tackle-hugged by a very happy Italian.

"Ve~! Come on, you can! It's no trouble!"

Prussia grinned. "I'd love to." But Germany noted that he cast another guilty glance at Alfonse before the family walked back to No. 4 Klopstockstrasse.

;;;;;;;;;

Alfonse was in bed later that night, lying awake. His nerves were tingling. Even as a young child, he knew how important this was to his adoptive parents, especially his mother.

He lay awake before he heard a muffled, _"YOU WHAT?"_ in his mother's voice.

He sat up in bed, listening. From what he could hear, Prussia was trying to explain something, and Germany and italy were both shouting him down. There were a few thuds, and then silence.

Alfonse climbed back into bed, somewhat spooked. The next morning, he tried to ignore the massive black eye his uncle was sporting that hadn't been there before.


	4. Conspiracy

Quirinus Quirrell fell to his knees in agony.

"P-please," he gasped. "N-no more! I d-don't understand w-what y-you w-want with m-me!

The tall man in front of him simply shrugged and smiled. "I think you know, Mister Quirrell. You have something I want, and you and your... master can help me get it, da?"

Quirrell knew then that this man, who seemed to be a Muggle (most wizards would have resorted to the Cruciartus Curse instead of simply beating him with a lead pipe), was completely serious. And he also knew that he was powerful.

Quirrell, not to mention his master, respected power. The British wizard instantly dropped the stutter in his voice and assumed a more authoritative tone.

"Well, Mister, uh..."

"Ivan."

"Mister Ivan. You can't expect me to cooperate after the beating you gave me. Might I ask, what interest does a Muggle have in our affairs?"

Ivan, more often known as Russia, stepped into the light. He let out a low sound from his throat that sounded like "_Kolkolkolkolkol..."_

Quirrel shrank back a bit, terrified by the sound. Ivan kept on smiling, his amethyst eyes boring into Quirrel's own.

"I think it is not the best idea to antagonize your host, da?" he asked. His childlike voice now had a much more sinister edge to it. "Know this, Mister Quirrel. While you are here in Russia, you have no way out. You can either cooperate, or I will end you. Very painfully."

As if to prove his point, he lifted the bloodstained pipe he was holding and swung it straight into the wall. The concrete shattered, spewing dust all over Quirrell.

Quirrell put up his hands in surrender. "All right, what do you want?"

Russia lowered the pipe. "I wish to speak to your master."

Quirrell frowned. "I'm afraid that I can't-"

In an instant, Russia lifted the wizard off the floor by his shirtfront, holding him aloft. "I said, I want to speak with your master."

Quirrel tried desperately to explain, but a hissing, snakelike voice interrupted him.

"_It issss fine, Quirrell..."_

"Master! You're not-"

"_Sssssshow him, Quirrell. Do not disssssobey me."_

Quirrel nodded. "If you'd let me down...?"

Russia dropped him like a sack of bricks. "Oof!" Quirrel glared in irritation. Russia simply smiled and waved his hand in a "go on" gesture.

Quirrel gave him one more glare of annoyance before unwrapping his turban.

;;;;;;;;;;;;

_After the fall of the Wall, Germany and Italy focused on raising Alfonse/Harry to be an intelligent, good person._

By the age of eleven, he had inherited his adoptive father's carefree attitude, great social skills, and love of pasta, and his adoptive mother's intelligence, orderly nature, and bravery. (This was put to the test during one of Germany's terrifying bedtime stories about the boy whose mother cut his thumbs off.)

And, true to England's word, strange things had happening in the Vargas-Beilschmidt household. When Italy bought the wrong kind of cake on his son's third birthday, Alfonse somehow made it explode all over the living room. When Germany had tried to cut his hair for a class picture when he was five and made a mistake, the ugly bald patch she made on his head somehow grew back overnight. And that's not even counting the whole beer debacle when he was eight...

The point being, Germany and Italy were beginning to believe England's cryptic remarks from eight years ago. And now that his tenth birthday was here, England's deadline was just around the corner. But Germany and Italy were worrying about other things.

"Why did we adopt a human baby, Luise?" Italy whispered sadly.

"I... guess it seemed like a good idea at the time." Germany watched her son play with Seychelles, Sealand, a newly liberated Latvia, and Liechtenstein (Switzerland was watching the two boys like a hawk in case they tried anything with his sister).

"Humans... get injured... so easily. And they live such short lives," Germany said. "And losing Alfonse..." She trailed off, but Italy knew what she was talking about.

He hugged her and said, "We'll find a way to make it work. For now though, let's enjoy Alfonse's party."

* * *

>But Germany still worried. As she watched Feliciano corral Alfonse and co. for cake, she went back into her office to think about what to do.<p><p>

**I think you all know what Russia's after.**

**I'll try to get the next one up tomorrow.**

**And thank you all for the reviews!**


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